


For Goodness Cakes

by yodasyoyo



Series: Tumblr fics [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baker Derek, Bakery AU, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Stiles, Pining, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt:<br/>Derek owns a bakery and Stiles comes in wanting something for a broken heart (very over-dramatic about it) but he gets so distracted by the cake (muscles) that he totally forgets alllll about it.</p><p>OR: Stiles eats a lot of cake. Derek's communication skills are lacking. And they bitch and snark their way to a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Goodness Cakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mountain_ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_ash/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Булочки на улочке](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747395) by [rmsmwia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmsmwia/pseuds/rmsmwia), [SSM_Sterek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSM_Sterek/pseuds/SSM_Sterek)



> I'm taking prompts on tumblr and this is the first one I've completed. The prompt came from the fabulous mountain_ash, who also writes fab fic that you should check out :D. It was fun to write and ridiculous and I hope you enjoy it.

Stiles doesn't want to be dramatic, but he's destined to die alone.

First there was Lydia. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, seeing as he never _actually_ dated Lydia

That doesn't mean he didn't love her though, because he _did,_ and that doesn't mean it didn't hurt when he finally accepted the fact that they were never going to be together, because it _ached_ in the worst possible way _._ (He ate his way through an entire tray of cupcakes the day she told him she really did _love_ Jackson Whittemore, he's still not entirely over it.)

Then of course there's Heather, and okay maybe he wasn't _infatuated_ with her like he was with Lydia. The thing is, he'd known Heather since they were kids and they'd always been friends, so once they finally started dating when he was eighteen, he'd figured this was _it._ They were going to be together _forever._ He's always been a long term planner. He's always committed himself one-hundred percent to the people he cares about. _One-hundred percent._

So two months in when Heather told him she thought things were moving too fast and she that wanted to take a break, he was understandably a teensy bit crushed. (He may of eaten an entire chocolate bundt cake to himself in one afternoon.)

And then finally there was Danny.

 _Fuck._ He scrubs a hand over his face in frustration.

Danny was the first guy he'd ever dated. The first _proper_ relationship he'd ever had. They'd been together on and off pretty much all the way through college. Their relationship built on the strongest of foundations, a shared love of video games, sarcasm and Ryan Gosling. Hell, they'd been talking about moving in together. Stiles had been _happy._ He thought Danny had been too.

Apparently not.

Apparently Stiles isn't the _one._

Is there even a one? Stiles is beginning to doubt that. It's probably just a lie promoted by Hollywood and greetings card companies.

All he knows now is, that he's going to need something sugary and delicious to ease his heartache.

So when he notices a new bakery as he's driving through town he takes it as a sign that the universe is finally looking out for him. He's not going to get to be with Danny, but might he might get to eat good cake. He parks his Jeep and dives across the road to take a look.

When he sees the sign he nearly groans out loud, because the place is called 'For Goodness Cakes' which is an _awful_ pun. _Awful._ However, as he presses his nose to the window he can feel his mouth watering. This is not your run of the mill small town bakery. This is some next level French patisserie style _shit_. Stiles doesn't know what possessed someone to open this place in a backwater town like Beacon Hills but he's not about to question it too hard. Everything in the window looks delicious, from the dainty pastries to the mouthwatering macaroons and perfectly glazed fruit tarts that are calling his name. There's a towering stack of profiteroles in the centre covered in spun sugar, sugared almonds and edible flowers.

Stiles doesn't drool on the glass, but it's a close run thing.

“I need your most amazing cake!” he says as he bursts through the shop door. “It's an emergency!”

The guy behind the counter startles, his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he nearly drops a platter of éclairs.

Stiles crouches down his nose pressed to the glass of the display counter. “What do you recommend. What's good here? I mean it all _looks_ good but-”

The guy behind the counter huffs out a sigh and Stiles glances up to get a proper look at him.  He has dark hair, stubble, cheekbones that could cut glass and from the way his biceps stretch his t-shirt it's clear he's _built_. The guys dark eyebrows are furrowed in a vee of confusion or possibly grumpiness. He may also be the most attractive person Stiles has ever seen in real life. Stiles scrambles to his feet gracelessly, nearly tripping over his own shoelace.

“Hi-” he says, feeling a blush creeping up over his neckline and onto his cheeks.

“What kind of emergency requires cake?” asks the hot guy, one eyebrow raised in confusion. He's wearing a name tag which informs Stiles that his name is Derek and that he is, despite appearances, happy to help.

“All kinds of emergencies,” Stiles responds immediately. “I could have dropped a wedding cake or forgotten someone's birthday.”

Derek huffs in disbelief. “It takes time to make a wedding cake,” he says, “You can't just show up here and _demand_ one.”

“Well good luck getting a steady customer base with that kind of 'can't do' attitude,” Stiles snipes back, “anyway, let's not pretend that cake doesn't improve just about _any_ situation you can think of. Accident, injury, dismemberment. They'd all be improved by cake.”

Derek's eyebrows are making the vee again, and _oh god, why is that attractive?_ “How does having cake improve being _dismembered_?” he asks.

“It _might,_ ” Stiles insists. “Anyway, what do you recommend?” He gestures to the display case. “What about that big tower thingy?” He points at the profiterole tower in the front window.

Derek scowls. “It's a [croquembouche](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croquembouche).”

“Bless you,” Stiles says. “Should you be working around cakes when you have a cold?"

Derek frowns at him.

Stiles grins. "How much does it cost?”

“More than you can afford.”

“Rude.” Stiles crosses his arms.

Derek folds his arms right back and glares.

“What kind of a bakery is this?” Stiles explodes, gesturing wildly. “You insult potential customers and won't let me buy the cake I want?”

Derek's brow furrows even more, his eyebrows virtually humping in the middle of his forehead, his ears are faintly pink. “It's not a _cake,_ and it's already been sold,” he grits out. “Somebody ordered it for a 50th birthday party, they’re collecting it this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, _some_ of his anger leaving him, but then... “Well, _I_ still need an emergency cake and you are still _rude_.”

Derek sighs and rests his palms against the counter and Stiles can't help eyeing them speculatively. Derek's arms are unfairly attractive, the strong corded muscle of his forearms lead to hands that have broad palms and thick fingers. Stiles doesn't stare. At least he's trying not to- but now Derek's looking at him like he's expecting Stiles to respond. It's possible that Stiles has just gotten so distracted staring at the guy's arms that he missed a key piece of dialogue here.

“Wha-?” he manages dragging his eyes back up to Derek's face.

“The emergency that you want the cake for, what is it?” Derek repeats, and he's making with the angry brows again. Stiles has never seen anyone with such expressive eyebrows, it's really distracting and kind of hot. Apparently hot and annoyed, with eyebrows of doom rank high on Stiles' personal list of kinks. Who knew?

“Oh – uh...” Stiles swallows, and scratches his face, finally remembering the reason why he'd rushed in here in the first place. Danny, of course. “Broken heart,” he mumbles.

“Yours? Or uh-” Derek says, the tips of his ears are getting pinker.

“Yeah, mine! My boyfriend just dumped me,” Stiles says, fixing Derek with annoyed glare. “Do I have permission to actually buy a _cake_ now? Or do I need to answer more questions? Do you want to know how much I weigh? Any existing health complaints? Whether I'm a Marvel or DC guy? Top or bottom?”

The blush on Derek's ears spreads unwillingly to his cheekbones, he scowls angrily. “No, I--fine.” He stalks to the display cabinet and picks out a strawberry tart placing it into a decorative box which he ties with a ribbon. The whole thing is accomplished with an air of barely restrained fury.

“That'll be $10.00,” Derek says tautly.

“This had better be _amazing,_ ” Stiles grouses as he pays.

Derek rolls his eyes and turns away.

 

-

 

It really is. Amazing, that is. It's the most mouthwatering delicious flaky, crumbly sweet strawberry-filled piece of deliciousness that Stiles has ever eaten. _Ever._

By the time he's finished it even his poor bruised heart is feeling a little bit better. He sits at the table in his apartment licking the last of the glaze off his fingers, and comes to two important conclusions.

1\. He needs to go back to that place and buy more cake.

2\. His father can _never_ know that For Goodness Cakes exists. Never.

(Okay, truth be told, he may also spend a happy half hour jerking off thinking about Derek giving him a very angry blow-job.)

Mainly it's the first two things though.

Probably.

 

-

 

The next day he bursts through the door to For Goodness Cakes in his lunch hour. He's prepared to overlook Derek's less than stellar customer service skills on the basis that cake is delicious and also Derek is hot like the sun.

It's not Derek behind the counter when the door opens though. It's a woman with dark hair and piercing eyes. Her name-tag informs him that her name is Laura. She smiles at him bright and sharp. “Hello! What can I get you today?”

He quashes the part of him that's disappointed he's not going to get to antagonize Derek again today. This way, he reasons, hopefully he'll get some quality customer service _and_ some delicious cake. Really it’s a win win situation.

“Well I had the strawberry tart yesterday, and it was delicious, so I'm tempted to just order it again.” He gazes at all the delectable looking pastries neatly lined up behind the glass counter. “But it all looks so good. What do you recommend?”

Laura grins. “My favorite are probably the mille-feuille and the chocolate torte," she says, “would you like to try both?”

“Hit me with it! I mean them!" Stiles corrects, smiling at her. “So, I'm assuming you're the one the one responsible for all this deliciousness.”

She raises an eyebrow as she carefully places a portion of torte into a decorative box. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I know it can't have been the guy who was in here yesterday," Stiles says.

“The guy-? You mean Derek?” She stops what she's doing to eye him in amusement.

“Yes. Derek. Nobody that sour could make anything this sweet and delicious. It's scientifically impossible.” A clanging noise sounds from the back of the shop. Someone in the kitchen has obviously dropped _something._

“Oh!" she says, a look of understanding flashing in her eyes. "You're the emergency cake guy!”

“Yes!” Stiles admits, not sure if he should be flattered or worried that Derek has talked about him. He leans forward and says in a stage whisper, “He told you about me? Should I be worried? Is he going to kill me? I wasn't sure, because his eyebrows speak of imminent death but his ears suggest otherwise.”

“His ears?” Laura says biting her cheek in amusement.

“Yes, y'know – with all the blushing.” The sudden clatter out back suggests that someone in the bakery kitchen has now dropped several trays all at once, Stiles cranes his neck to see if he can take a look. “Hey, do you need to go out there, make sure everything's okay?”

Laura grins. “Nah, he'll be fine. Tell me, what's your name?”

“Stiles,” Stiles says happily, taking the cake boxes she offers him and handing over his money.

“Stiles,” she says, “Okay, well I'm Laura, it is _very_ good to meet you.” She sounds positively gleeful.

“You too!” 

 

-

 

He goes back there the next day:

“Hey Stiles, great to see you back what can I get you?”

“Tarte au Citron and a selection of macaroons please Laura. By the way, I have to ask, who came up with the name for this place?”

She grins, “My younger sister, Cora. Why? Do you like it?”

He shrugs. “Eh, it's okay.” It's a bit lame actually, but he's nothing if not _polite_.

Derek stalks in from the kitchen carrying a tray of danishes. They're piping hot and the smell is heavenly. He pointedly ignores both Laura and Stiles.

“You have a better name then?” Laura asks, interested.

“I don't know, I mean it's not like 'For Goodness Cakes' is a _bad_ name. But-” Stiles trails off, trying not to ogle Derek’s ass as he leans over to place the tray of danishes in the front window. _Jesus, are those jeans painted on?_

“Oh my God, buns of steel-” Stiles breathes and Laura sniggers. Stiles whips round to look at her, he can _feel_ himself blushing, he clears his throat, “Buns of Steel would be an _excellent_ name for a bakery. I think you should consider it.”

Derek snorts in derision and disappears back to the kitchen. “You sulk all you want Derek,” Stiles calls, “But I don't see you coming up with a better one!” There's no reply, “Oh go glower by the flour asshole,” Stiles mutters.

“He does like to brood near the food,” Laura agrees.

“Fuck you both!” Derek calls.

Stiles grins.

 

-

 

So it goes on.

He ends up going back maybe two or three times a week. Laura is _lots_ of fun and Derek is sometimes fun in a different sort of way. It helps that he's also extremely hot, stoic, sarcastic and scowly.

Stiles not-so-secretly loves trying to prod a reaction out of the guy.

Truthfully, he's always quite enjoyed a good argument, and Derek is worth provoking. Not just because he's hot like burning, but because he has _opinions_ about things that Stiles is interested in. Plus, he's more than capable of keeping up with Stiles' sarcasm, and honestly? There aren't many people that can do that.

Over the weeks, and without even realizing it, his visits to For Goodness Cakes become the brightest part of his day. He's looking forward to chatting with Laura and antagonizing Derek. It's fun. Also, he hasn't jerked off this much thinking about arguing with someone since his crush on Lydia in high school.

Then one day, it all gets ruined. He's having a perfectly good argument  with Derek about comic books (Stiles loves DC and Derek's a Marvel guy) when Stiles makes his favorite Batman joke (What does Batman put in his drinks? _Just ice_ ) and Derek rolls his eyes and _smiles_! It's disgustingly fond and Stiles heart _may_ skip a beat in his chest.

He tries to ignore it.

It's fine.

So Derek has a heart-stoppingly gorgeous smile? That's not a big deal.

So _maybe_ Stiles wants to see if he can get him to smile that way again.

It’s nothing.

It's only once he gets home he realizes how badly wrong he is.

Up until that point all Stiles' Derek related fantasies had involved them arguing with each other. They'd be fighting with each other about something, and getting closer and closer and then BAM! They'd be angry kissing and furious blow-jobs and then he gets dragged out the back of the shop and Derek hate-fucks him in the kitchen or possibly up against the display counter. Whatever. The position doesn't matter, all that matters is they have angry sex and then eat some of Laura's delicious cakes.

That was up until he saw Derek smile. He goes home that night and during his normal pre-bedtime jerk off session all he can think about is the way Derek's eyes had gone soft and warm, crinkling a little at the corners. How he'd shown a flash of those ridiculous bunny teeth. How adorable he'd looked trying to argue that the Avengers would win against the Justice League…

_Fuck._

Stiles grabs a tissue and starts cleaning himself up, dread pools in his stomach.

He knows this feeling, and he can't believe that he's been this oblivious. He thought he had a weird lust-filled hate boner for Derek Hale. He's been kidding himself.

Tragically and inconceivably he's developed _feelings._

Stiles isn't good with feelings.

They normally end up getting stomped all over.

He doesn't get much sleep that night.

 

-

 

He waits a couple of days to see if the feelings go away.

They don't

He really kind of misses Derek and ends up visiting the bakery on his way home on Friday after work. He doesn't mean to. It's just he's feeling low because of his sad unrequited Derek feelings and traditionally he medicates sadness with cake. Unfortunately, 'For Goodness Cakes' have spoiled him now. None of the other bakeries in Beacon Hills will be good enough. It's a tragic cake filled ouroboros of despair and pining.

He shuffles into the bakery feeling miserable and he's half relieved to see that it's Laura on the front of shop today.

“Hey Stiles, are you okay?” Laura asks as soon as he walks through the door.

“Not really.” Stiles shrugs listlessly.

“What's wrong?”

He sags a little. “Nothing. Everything. Love sucks. You know how it is.”

“Love? Oh my God! Were you dating someone? Did you break up? Why didn't you _say_ something?” she hisses glancing furtively at the kitchen.

Stiles sighs. “It's not like that, I just- I really need cake today. I have feelings to eat into submission.”

She looks at him sympathetically, “That bad, huh?”

“You have _no_ idea.” He glances across to see Derek hovering awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyebrow semaphore says he's either disapproving or concerned. It could go either way. It's fucking adorable, and Stiles realizes with a jolt that he wants to know which one it is. He wants to be the person who knows what all Derek's weird eyebrow gymnastics mean. His stomach drops like he's on a roller-coaster at that, because he can't deal with the whole unrequited thing again. He just _can't_. “Actually...” he says, glancing down at his phone. “I just realized I need to go. I'll um- yeah. Bye.”

He scurries out of the door and back to his Jeep, sad, alone and cakeless. It's a disaster. He slinks back home and sits there alone watching The Notebook, wrapped in a ratty blanket and eating cheap ice-cream straight out of the tub. It's a low point.

It's nine o'clock when his doorbell rings. He wraps his blanket around himself tightly and wanders limply to his front door to answer it. He is not prepared for the sight that meets his eyes.

It's Derek Hale carrying a massive tower of profiteroles held together by spun sugar and decorated with edible superhero logos. Batman, Superman and Wonderwoman symbols all carefully crafted out of icing. It's the most amazing thing Stiles has _ever_ seen.

“Wha-?” Stiles manages.

“I made you an emergency croquembouche, because you're feeling y'know- and you couldn't eat the last one I made so...” Derek says, glaring at the floor, his ears blushing furiously. “I can take it away if you don't like it.”

“You! What? Just a minute- YOU made that?” Stiles gestures incredulously at the confection in front of him. “I thought Laura made all the cakes!”

Derek scowls. "Why would you think that? I'm a trained pastry chef! Laura could burn _water._ ”

“I don't know. I assumed once and she never corrected me,” Stiles flails wildly. “Oh my God this is awful!” Derek's face falls. “You were not supposed to be _this_ perfect!” Stiles rants. “With the sarcasm and the closet nerd thing and the _body_ and the adorable eyebrows and now you _bake._ My God why do I always fixate on people who are _completely_ fucking unattainable? Why?”

Derek's eyebrows are emoting again and Stiles slaps a hand to his mouth willing the last few minutes not to have happened.

“I'm going to _kill_ you,” Derek says, “I just spent four hours preparing this because I felt bad that you got your heart broken again. Four hours stressing because I've been fucking _ridiculous_  piningover you for weeks and I was devastated to think that you liked someone else. Four hours deciding that even if you didn't like me back I still wanted to try and be a good friend. I can't believe I just stressed baked thinking you like someone _else._ ”

Stiles swallows and stares at the amazing dessert. “It looks incredible.”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, “it does.”

There's an awkward silence.  
  
“So if you uh- come inside, we could eat some of that and make out for a bit. I mean, not necessarily in that order,” Stiles suggests, “I could even give you an apology blow job.”

Derek pretends to consider the offer. “I think I could be convinced,” he says, stepping inside.

The croquembouche is amazing. The sex is even better.

Maybe Stiles isn’t destined to be alone after all.

  
  
o0o

 

[tumblr](http://yodas-yo-yo.tumblr.com/)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Haha. I hope you enjoyed this nonsense. Thanks in advance to everyone who comments and leaves kudos. It really means a lot. This fic has been cross posted to tumblr. Where I hang out occasionally. You should come say hi! Prompt me with stuff. Flail over how cute Tyler Hoechlin looks in glasses. Or y'know. Whatever. :D


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